Let me in
by DagmarKjartansd
Summary: Kurt and Rachel are living in NY and both go to NYADA, where Blaine, Rachel's older brother, is teaching theater and English.   Badboy!Kurt, Teacher!Blaine, Nerdy!Blaine, Anderberry Sibling AU. Klaine. Blangst. Some mentions of Finchel, St. Berry later on
1. Teaser

Kurt could hear the rhythmical clicks of Rachel's shoes against the worn wooden floor of their studio apartment. They'd been a gift of sorts from Finn. Marc Jacobs. The real consumer of the gift had been clear the moment she opened the box, but she'd played along nicely and thanked Kurt later in private. Rachel's sense of fashion had improved vaguely since they'd left for New York. It was still far from tasteful, but she had at the very least dropped the reindeer sweaters in an attempt to look more adult. Kurt's fashion sense had changed too, become darker, less flamboyant. He had far from lost interest in clothes, he still had impeccable taste, he'd just toned down the glitter. Since they'd moved they just didn't seem to fit right on him anymore. They were too fake and polished. They reminded him of his old nickname, Porcelain. When Sue had given him the nickname all those years ago he'd quite liked it, but now it seemed frail, breakable, a representation of the things he was trying to put behind him.  
>He was sitting on the balcony, because Rachel absolutely forbade him from smoking inside. He was lost in thought, the fact that his cigarette had burned half way through without his taking a single drag since the one that lit it seemed lost to him. He was staring intently at the flame eating up the paper and tobacco and thinking about time. The swiftness of it all, their lives burning up like a fuse leading to the inevitable end. The least he could hope for was going out with a bang. He knew he was shortening his own limited timespan with this very habit, but what's a few years, really? If you compare it to the age of this earth, even the potential age of this very building, it was no more than a blink, a small breeze. Kurt Hummel blowing by, touching the treetops and the buildings and the people for the briefest second, leaving nothing but a ruffle of the leafs behind.<br>A searing pain brought him back to earth. The cigarette had burned all the way down to its filter and the flame was on his fingertip. He flicked the remaining stub of the edge of the balcony and contemplated lighting another one, this time to actually smoke it, but the cold New York air made him decide against it.  
>"Aren't you freezing out there? Don't you think you should just kick the habit?" Rachel said as a form of greeting. Kurt just smirked at her. He was well aware that Rachel disapproves of his smoking, and Rachel was well aware that he frankly didn't give a fuck what she thinks. "Our timetables are up. Coffee?"<br>Kurt accepted the cup from her with mumbled thanks. Her coffee wasn't near the quality of any New York coffee house, but it was warm in his hands and with their current budget the least of their concerns was the quality of coffee. Things would ease up come summer, when their heating needs would be drastically decreased.  
>Kurt settled in the ugly but comfortable red chair. None of their furniture matched, pieces picked up at flea markets and borrowed from friendly relatives and neighbors. This particular piece of hideous furniture belonged to Rachel's older brother Blaine, who was working as a teacher in NYADA. In fact most of their furniture belonged to Blaine, who hadn't had the heart to throw out the stuff, having borrowed it from their grandfather who died before he got a chance to return it. It was a win-win situation for everyone, with the obvious exception of Rachel's grandfather. Kurt opened his laptop, old and worn but still functioning, and typed in the address for the NYADA school webpage. The site took several minutes to load and another couple to sign him in, but after much waiting and frustrated glaring at the screen Kurt was able to view his time table. A quick scan of the subject list and time plan left him satisfied, even pleased. It could easily have been much worse; he could even sleep in on Tuesdays. This was going to be a good year.<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

Kurt made a mental note to hide Rachel's iPod as she blasted "Don't rain on my parade" for the so-many-that-even-Kurt-was-getting-sick-of it-th time through their car stereo. He would have asked her to change the song, but he knew it'd be no use. Rachel was being passive aggressive because she disapproved of him smoking in the car. But, as Kurt had reminded her just moments ago, this was_ his_ car, that _he_ was driving to school, and she was welcome to walk if she so desired. In Kurt's defense he had opened the window and had the cigarette hanging out of it to avoid getting smoke in her face, driving only with his right hand, but for some reason even this annoyed her, so Kurt had simply decided that she was unpleasable.  
>Parking was hard to come by when running late, but a helpful sophomore had hinted last semester that there was always plenty of space by the environment building. Whether it was because the people who cared enough to take environment class all rode their bikes to school, or because no one ever took environment class Kurt did not know, and it was hard to care as he took the finishing drag of his cigarette with one hand and put the car into park with the other. He was about to step outside when<br>"Ababab!"  
>He turned to look at his companion, eyebrows raised.<br>"Car keys!" Rachel shook her hand in his face, and he may have given up the keys right then and there had she bothered to incorporate a 'please' into that sentence.  
>"It's my car." He interjected, knowing he was being childish.<br>"We had an agreement. You're not allowed to leave me stranded here again-"  
>"That was one time!"<br>"Three times! Anyways, I don't care how hot or potentially gay"  
>"definitely gay"<br>"Or definitely gay the guy is, I am not taking the subway again. I still haven't recovered from the last time. You finish before me, so hand over the keys!"  
>He pulled them out of the ignition and handed them over, lazily.<p>

Later that very day Kurt Hummel looked back at that moment cursing himself for having given up his keys so keenly. It was all, he concluded, Rachel's fault. If Rachel had not been so afraid of being left for dead in the NYADA parking lot he would not have had to walk the relatively short distance to the nearest gas station to buy cigarettes, he would not have to smoke said cigarettes while walking back to school making him dizzy, and he would not be standing there, eight minutes late for class, with two deep brown eyes staring at him with an unexplained enthusiasm that took his breath away.  
>"Come on then, join the circle." The owner of the eyes said.<br>Kurt could only conclude that he must be the teacher, although he looked young enough to be a student. Maybe it was just due to his height; even Kurt was taller than him. Leaving his satchel in a corner he hovered awkwardly over the circle for a moment until it expanded to include him. He crossed his legs, the heels of his shoes boring into his thighs, which normally would have annoyed him, but now it seemed dull, because the teacher had just introduced himself.  
>"I'm Blaine Anderson and I'm here to fuck you, darling. What's your name?"<br>Wait. No. That couldn't be right.  
>His now blissfully empty brain managed to conclude that what he had probably said was "I am here to teach you drama."<br>"Kurt Hummel. And I'd be up for that."  
>"… up for what?"<br>"You… _teaching_ me drama."  
>Oh my god what the hell was he saying? Because yes, of course, the dots had connected in his mind: Blaine, teacher, short, dark hair, those eyes. And he was <em>not <em>about to fall for Rachel Berry's brother.

As the lesson progressed that was proving to be easier said than done, however, because Blaine Anderson was not only too fucking hot to exist, a point only emphasized when he took of his blazer half way through the lesson to reveal arms that looked positively photoshoped, he also happened to be the most energetic, enthusiastic and simply adorable person Kurt had ever encountered. He tried to stay serious, but the effect was somewhat diminished by the plush angry bird he was throwing to himself, every five minutes punctuated by him dropping it or accidentally throwing it in a student's face. (Alright, that was one time, but it was a freaking adorable one.)  
>Blaine was the embodiment of passion. And after listing about ten books he was sure would make great plays, he asked them to settle on a production to make the semester's project, watched them vote on it and settle on Rent, only to make an excited noise from his spot on the stage and announcing that he's changed his mind, and that they'd be writing their own play. This announcement was punctuated by the bell signaling the end of class.<p>

And by now Kurt was majorly fucked. He was trying really hard, honest, to get Blaine out of his head, but every time he let his mind wander there he was, radiating with joy in the auditorium, throwing his bird around or licking his lips. It wasn't even that he was so hot, it was just that he was so _awesome_.  
>Kurt closed his eyes with every drag of his cigarette, telling himself it was to throughoutly enjoy the pleasant calm the smoke brought with it, but knowing it was to block out the surroundings, so that when he pictured that smile Blaine was so real to him he could almost smell him.<br>"Kurt?"  
>"Huh?"<br>He opened his eyes to find Blaine's dark brown ones inches from his own. It took all his effort not to yell out in surprise, but he could not stop the blush from spreading to his face. In an attempt to distract from it, he smirked.  
>"Why, hello there, Mr. Anderson." He said smugly "How can I be of assistance?"<br>"Do you have a light?" He asked, looking somewhat awkward, and only then did Kurt realize he was holding a pack of cigarettes.  
>"Didn't have you sorted as the smoking kind." He said, handing him his zippo.<br>"Yeah, I get that a lot." Blaine said, sitting down next to him and lighting the tip. Kurt should probably not find that so damn sexy, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to care about the fact that this was Rachel's brother, and a teacher, because the look on his face as he blew out the smoke from the first drag could only be described as orgasmic.  
>"Does that cigarette have some good stuff in it or are you just really fucking desperate?" He asked conversationally, and to his surprise Blaine laughed. "First one in a while. So, what are you here for?"<br>Kurt looked around, confused.  
>"…smoking?"<br>"No, I mean the school. What are you studying?"  
>"Oh, right… musical theater."<br>"You know those things will ruin your voice, right?" He didn't say it condescendingly, like Rachel and his father, just conversationally.  
>"Yeah" Kurt took the last drag and killed the cigarette against the worn brick wall. "But I figured 'what the hell'." He stood up, pocketed his lighter and started walking away before adding "I mean, life's for living, right?"<p>

Kurt had not expected to see Blaine Anderson again until Wednesday's drama class, by which time he would have sorted out whatever feelings he may be having for him. He had almost managed to convince himself that all the needed was a good shag when he walked into his last class, about four minutes after the bell, to find none other than Blaine fucking Anderson sitting with his feet up on the desk, reading the Catcher in the Rye and biting the earpieces of his glasses. Kurt could see a glimpse of his tongue pushing the earpiece out to say "Do you make a habit of being late, Mr. Hummel?"  
>"Not at all, sir." He said cheekily, pushing away the pencil case and notebook crowding the middle front desk and sitting down, ignoring the girl beside him who muttered something about 'Jenny's seat' and 'just went to the bathroom'. "The bell just has a habit of interrupting significantly more enjoyable pastimes." He winked, followed by a smirk.<br>"Well, may I suggest you plan your time better, Mr. Hummel? We're doing the Cather in the Rye and I'd hate for you to miss out because you were otherwise engaged."  
>"Yes, <em>sir<em>."  
>Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine was playing some sort of game or if he had gravely misjudged him in the auditorium. He should hate this side of him, the sarcastic and pretentious teacher, and he would have if it wasn't so damn hot. Because as Blaine went on with the lesson with a passion vaguely reminiscent of the explosion of enthusiasm he had experienced in drama class Kurt zoned out his speech on what he could only presume from Blaine's voice was the single greatest novel ever written, and just looked at him. Blaine had really taken the teacher act all out. Everything from his shoes to his bow tie was like taken out of a 1970's movie. His burgundy blazer even had elbow pads. Yet Kurt found himself unable to take his eyes of him. His dark curls, although neatly groomed, gave him a bohemian look. Not in the elaborate and obviously fake fashion of aspiring artists and washed up dreamers, but something genuine. Something that told Kurt he did not belong here, talking about classic American literature to young people who couldn't care less about the collective works of J.D. Salinger. He was too, well, genuine. Too throughoutly alive to waste his time hidden away in a classroom.<br>It should be illegal, Kurt concluded, to have such breathtaking eyes. At the very least to combine them with such ungodly tight jeans. He found himself studying the way the material clung to his thighs, following the movement of his hands as he talked, watching his eyes light up with excitement every time he got to talk about the more genius aspects of the novel, the small strip of sunlight illuminating the veins on his neck, how fantastic his ass looked in those jeans when he turned around to write on the whiteboard, his eyes, his nose, his jawline, his eyebrows, the way his lips moved, the way he'd occasionally lick them, how they'd feel against the exposed skin of his own neck…  
>By the time the bell rang Kurt was in no hurry to stand up. He could feel the blush burning hot on his face, and he just needed Blaine to <em>leave, <em>so that he could reclaim some blood to his brain and maybe figure things out. Yet when he walked toward the door Kurt called him back.  
>"Blaine?"<br>Most teachers would have indignantly insisted he address them by their last name only, but Blaine simply turned around to look at him questioningly.  
>"Yes, Kurt?"<br>Kurt couldn't help but notice the small pause he had made before saying his name. So, he'd dropped the last name act as well.  
>"Do you know if there's anyone using this classroom next period?"<br>"Yes, I think there's a German class coming in any second. How come?"  
>"Oh" Kurt said, deliberately casual "It's just that my roommate has my car keys, and she won't be finished for another hour."<br>There was a silence that was probably awkward, but Kurt was too busy watching Blaine biting his lip thoughtfully to be affected.  
>"Would you like a ride? I'm off for the day anyway."<br>"Wouldn't that be inappropriate, Mr. Anderson?" Kurt said wryly, biting his lower lip and lifting an eyebrow in what he hoped was an inquisitive and only mildly suggestive manner.  
>"Not if you're stranded. In fact I would consider it my moral obligation as your teacher to protect you from the terrifying netherworld that is the New York subway system."<br>Kurt had to put in a lot of effort not to laugh. Why was he so damn charming?  
>"Well, if that is what you wish, Mr. Anderson."<br>"Please, call me Blaine." He paused, and added as an afterthought "Just not in class, ok?"  
>"As you wish."<p>

They drove in silence for the first fifteen minutes. Blaine's car was old, bordering on vintage. It was very clean with the exception of a few details; an empty coke can in the cup holder, a Stieg Larsson novel sliding back and forth on the dashboard with each turn, and an ash tray that Kurt took to mean he could smoke in the car.  
>"Why does one of your cigarettes turn upside down?" Blaine asked, glancing at his pack while waiting at a red light. Kurt shrugged, a little embarrassed. "It's just a habit."<br>"I used to know a boy who did that. He said it was for good luck…"  
>Kurt may have commented on the ritual, but something dark had come over Blaine's face. It only stayed for a second, but long enough to create a rather strained silence. Blaine broke it by clearing his throat.<br>"So, the Catcher in the Rye. Have you read it?" It was an obvious attempt at changing the subject, and Kurt welcomed it. He wasn't good at handling awkwardness. "Not a word"  
>Blaine smiled. "You'd like it. It's a bit… pessimistic. Brutally honest." He cut himself off, perhaps remembering that he's known this boy for less than a day. "Anyhow, you appeared to enjoy the lesson."<br>"Didn't catch a word of it" Kurt supplied honestly. "I was far more interested in watching you talk."  
>Blaine laughed "Like I said, brutal honesty. I would return the compliment, Kurt, but I think you'd agree that would be inappropriate. Anyway, I wasn't talking about English, I was talking about drama. What do you think of the term project?"<br>"I think it's pretentious and irrelevant to the class. We're here."  
>Blaine stopped his car outside Kurt's building.<br>"Huh. My sister lives in this building."  
>Kurt picked up his bag smirking, opened the door and said "Imagine that" before walking away without thanks or farewell. Yes, this was definitely all Rachel's fault.<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

Kurt had thought the stars would be unintelligible through the New York mist, but he could see them clearly from his balcony if he took the time to look at them. This was the thing he loved about cigarettes, really. Not the feeling of calm or the social aspects of it all, but the fact that they forced him to step outside occasionally, to take a break from his life to sort things out in the quiet solitude of his balcony. He looked at all the buildings, identical to his own, and contemplated the vastness of it all. He was certainly a long way away from Lima in every sense of the phrase. In Lima you could drive for minutes without encountering a single building, but here, in the busy streets of the city that never sleeps, he could see it all. People's lives in a nutshell. He could see the flames of cigarettes on the balconies of the opposing building smoked by faceless shadows, and he knew that to them he'd look just the same. A faceless, nameless being with no thoughts or ambitions or purpose, just this little red light signaling his existence. It must look almost like a star perched somewhere in the vast universe. The stars of New York City, thousands upon millions of cigarette flames and forgotten kitchen lights burning into the night. He knew he was seeing only fractions of it, and that if he wasn't careful he would sink into it, become one of the stars himself. Nameless, faceless, useless people wandering the streets of New York, or Los Angeles, or Rio, or Paris, or any other city where you encountered so many people in one day that their faces become an unseen blur. Cities where the traits that in a small town would define you are shared by a thousand others. And he wondered whether individuality was the price one must pay for inclusiveness, and if so, whether it was one he would be willing to give.  
>There were other reasons, of course, that he enjoyed cigarettes, and the largest one yet had presented itself two weeks ago when Blaine Anderson, his very attractive drama teacher, had asked to use his lighter. This in itself would be rather insignificant had it not developed into a ritual of sorts, a coincidental habit, if you wish. Because over the course of the last weeks Blaine had seemed unable to provide a lighter for himself. He seemed hesitant to ask any of the other students, and none of the other teachers were ever to be seen in the 'outside area' designated for smoking, so more often than not he ended up sitting beside Kurt on the cold wooden staircase during lunch breaks, sharing stories as well as flames. They would revisit highlights of that week's drama class, or they'd discuss the Catcher in the Rye, the novel they were studying in English, which Kurt grudgingly had to admit he was finding himself rather enjoying, although he doubted he would ever finish it. They didn't often stray from subjects regarding Blaine's syllabus, but his utter enthusiasm about the subjects he taught was reason enough to keep conversing. Well, that and his smile.<br>Kurt had decided not to fight the blush burning hot against the January winds whenever he was faced with that smile, partly because he believed that it was foolish to deny oneself something that brings one pleasure, but mostly because no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't get Blaine Anderson out of his head. Had the situation been different he would have pursued him weeks ago, but doing so would cause a rather massive dilemma. For one thing Blaine was, no matter how lenient or enthusiastic or casual he may be about it, still a teacher. Kurt wasn't sure about NYADA's policies on student-teacher relationships, but he was convinced that it would create a nice set of bumps in the road. Not to mention the fact that Blaine was Rachel's brother, which although admittedly would never have stopped him under normal circumstances he still thought should be taken into account. But the biggest hindrance wasn't school rules and protective sisters, both of which was dismissible, but the simple fact that Blaine did not feel the same way. To him Kurt was a student. A student whose company he enjoyed, but a student none the less.  
>Kurt threw the stub of his cigarette over the rail and made the single step in to the empty apartment. Rachel was spending less and less time in their shabby studio as the year progressed. The reason for this was an unanticipated reunion that had caused her to skip and smile like an overly excited five-year-old upon entering their flat two days into the semester.<br>"You'll never guess who I ran into at the grocery store." She'd said, happily unloading her bag.  
>"From the degree of your enthusiasm I'm going to guess Barbra Streisand."<br>"No" She laughed "But oh, wouldn't that be extraordinary?" A glossy smile spread across her face, and Kurt actually had to nudge her to bring her back to earth.  
>"Rachel? Grocery store?"<br>"Right. I met Jesse."  
>"St. James?"<br>Rachel nodded enthusiastically, allowing a very smitten smile to spread on her face before plunging into the story of her wonderful adventures. He'd taken her to get proper coffee in a romantic little café somewhere deep in the city, and she'd been careful to include a clearly practiced speech on how she was not cheating on Finn because even though they maintained an unusually close relationship they had technically broken up before she'd left. Kurt had a feeling that Finn would feel otherwise, but her guilty look while plowing through her rehearsed speech told him that she was just as aware of that fact as he was. Anyhow, he was not going to be the one to bring her back to earth, not when she was radiating so much joy.

It was a particularly windy day and the cool January air left his skin red and frail. It took several tries to light the tip of his cigarette, and Kurt had almost given up and went inside when he saw the familiar form of Blaine Anderson pacing across the grassy area hunched against the bitter wind. Kurt already had his lighter out when he arrived, and Blaine smiled gratefully as he took it from his hands.  
>"If anything was going to convince me to quit smoking, it would be the prospect of staying inside on days like these." Blaine said, sitting down next to Kurt and trying desperately to create a shelter for the flame to grow.<br>"Maybe if you quit smoking you could afford to buy yourself a lighter." Kurt said conversationally, watching Blaine's face scrunch up in concentration as he tried to light his cigarette before the wind got the better of him.  
>"Here." He said, pressing the lit end of his own cigarette to the tip of Blaine's, watching the flame spread.<br>"Thank you."  
>"Don't mention it. Am I still up for a ride today?"<br>"Of course. Your apartment's in my way anyways."  
>"How long are we going to continue this until we make it a standing arrangement?"<br>Blaine bit his lip in mock thoughtfulness. "A couple of weeks," he concluded.  
>"A couple of weeks it is." After this Blaine somehow managed to steer the conversation to books, making it more of a monologue about the importance of cigarettes in the Solitaire Mystery, but Kurt still appreciated his company greatly. In addition he couldn't help but finding Blaine's enthusiasm for utterly uninteresting subjects slightly endearing. He may have stayed there for hours just listening, but that didn't stop the bell from calling him to French class five minutes later.<p>

Kurt was immensely happy to see Rachel step through the apartment door almost exactly one and a half hour after him, because he kept forgetting to go grocery shopping and was consequently rather hungry, and Rachel was holding two bags filled with cereal and cupped noodles. He was bringing water to a boil in a kettle when Rachel said "Guess who I talked to today."  
>"I don't know, Rachel."<br>"Haven't you bought anything since I started spending nights at Jesse's? We're skimmed."  
>"As a matter of fact, no, I haven't."<br>"Anyway, Blaine." She said, arranging cups of instant noodles in stacks in one of their kitchen cupboards. Kurt froze. "What about Blaine?"  
>"I spoke to him."<br>"Your own brother, imagine that!"  
>"He invited us to dinner tomorrow."<br>"Us?"  
>"Yes, he said I should bring my roommate. Apparently our dads have been pestering him to make sure I'm not living off of microwave meals and cafeteria food. You don't have to come if you don't want to."<br>Kurt moved the kettle with the now boiling water from the stove and carefully poured into the noodle cup.  
>"oh, I'd <em>love<em> to."


	4. Chapter 3

The air in the car was stuffy. It crowded Kurt's lungs and threatened to choke him. He regretted wearing the beige scarf, it felt as if it was throttling him.  
>"Can we open a window?" He asked, turning to Rachel.<br>"Are you insane? I'm freezing." She kept her eyes firmly on the road.  
>"I feel like I'm choking on the air."<br>Rachel reluctantly pressed the button to open the passenger side window. Kurt's button had been broken for a year, leaving him at Rachel's mercy whenever she drove. The gust of cold air felt like coming up of water.  
>There was a silence filled only by Rachel's demonstrative noises designed to point out that she really was rather cold and it would be prudent of Kurt to allow her to lower the window. Had he not been so warm he may have granted her the honors, but it didn't much matter because they were parking outside what Kurt could only assume was Blaine's building. It was similar to their own, but it looked newer, more sturdy and somehow less gray.<br>He wondered whether the nervousness was really evident on his face, or if he simply saw it because he knew it was there as he studied himself in the elevator's mirror. He couldn't pinpoint the reason for his anxiety, but he had a bad feeling about it all. He felt like he was being exposed. He didn't know how Rachel may have described her roommate to Blaine, and although he doubted she's said anything bad he'd still have liked to present himself to Blaine on his own terms without any assumptions created by Rachel's descriptions, and opportunity that was now being robbed from him. He was considering telling Rachel he'd changed his mind when the elevator doors opened and he knew it was no use. She'd already walked down the hallway and knocked on a blue door.  
>The door opened to reveal a smiling Blaine, of all things wearing a chef's hat and an apron and <em>why was that so adorable?<em> Blaine hugged Rachel before Kurt had arrived at his door, and he turned to the sound of his footsteps… and froze.  
>"…Kurt?"<br>"Good evening, Mr. Anderson." Kurt said cheekily, removing his hat and doing a mock bow. Blaine looked flustered.  
>"Do you know each other?" Rachel asked, sounding throughoutly confused.<br>"He's my teacher." Kurt said nonchalantly, following Blaine into his neat apartment.  
>"Not tonight" Blaine said "For now I'm just Rachel's nerdy brother."<br>"As you wish, Mr. Anderson."  
>"Call me Blaine"<br>"Don't I always?"

Blaine had gone all out on their meal, and Kurt did not hesitate to lad his plate with all he had to offer. Rachel's meat substitute looked rather measly compared to his chicken breast, but that had not prevented her from generously showering her brother with compliments. It had been a long time since either of them had eaten anything that didn't come out of a microwave.  
>"We can't stay too long" Rachel informed Blaine after the meal. When Kurt looked at her questioningly she added "I'm going to a midnight movie with Jesse."<br>"Someone special?" Blaine asked teasingly, making Rachel blush.  
>"Just a friend."<br>Kurt snorted into his glass of water. "Naked friend"  
>Both sets of eyes turned to him. Blaine didn't seem to know whether he should be annoyed or amused. Rachel, on the other hand, had her emotions completely figured out. Her face was red and her eyes were murderous as she mouthed 'shut up'.<br>"Or what?" Kurt said audibly.  
>"Or I won't give you a ride home"<br>"It's _my _car" Kurt reminded her calmly.  
>"What have I done to you?" She asked angrily, which Kurt knew meant she couldn't think of any more threats.<br>"You hid my iPod"  
>"<em>You<em> hid _my _iPod"  
>"You wouldn't take Barbra Streisand of repeat."<br>Rachel was about to retort, but was interrupted by Blaine's snicker.  
>"Sounds familiar." He said, eyeing his sister teasingly. "I mean, I like Barbra as much as the next guy but there is a limit to how many times you can play 'I am the greatest star' in one evening."<br>Rachel scoffed.

They stayed after dinner. The purpose had originally been for Rachel and Blaine to catch up and make fake promises to see each other more often, but instead they had gotten around to reminiscing. They'd opened a bottle of red wine (for 'just a few sips for tasting') and Kurt had heard every imaginable story about childhood plays and who's daddy's favorite when Rachel's phone rang.  
>"Hello? ... what, now?" She looked at her wristwatch "Oh my God, I completely lost track of time." She proceeded to calmly tell her conversational partner, who Kurt assumed was Jesse, Blaine's address and bid him goodbye. Her relaxed demeanor was dropped the second she hung up.<br>"Can I use your bathroom to get ready?" She asked Blaine, who just nodded and waved a lazy hand in the direction of his bathroom. Within ten minutes Rachel was rushing out the door. She handed Kurt his car keys and thanked Blaine for a great meal and lovely evening. When she was almost out the door she turned to look at Kurt inquisitively.  
>"I had wine" Kurt said, sensing the question.<br>"You said you wouldn't"  
>"And then I did. That's me in a nutshell, isn't it? Don't worry sweetie, I'm quite safe with your lovely sibling." He raised his glass to Blaine, who smiled. Rachel didn't look reassured.<br>"Have fun with Jesse. And throw me my coat." Kurt's coat came flying, and once he'd caught it Rachel was out the door. Kurt went out on the balcony and took out a cigarette. He was searching his pockets for his lighter when Blaine came out and handed him one.  
>"So you do own lighters"<br>Blaine smiled sheepishly. He was rested against the rail, illuminated only by the light from his window and the streetlamps from below. It gave him a rather dramatic flair. He hadn't bothered to shave, and a shadowlike assortment of stubble rested on his face. He was wearing only a t-shirt, and Kurt could see each vein on his arms. He watched them work, pulling the cigarette pack out of his jeans pocket, receiving the lighter back from Kurt, and lighting the end. His jeans were once again indecently tight, and Kurt couldn't help but let his gaze linger on them as Blaine pocketed his lighter. Blaine touched his thigh in an attempt to warm his hands, and Kurt could see the hairs on his arms erecting against the cold air. He was about to ask why he hadn't worn a coat, but Blaine spoke first.  
>"You knew all along, didn't you?"<br>"What?" Kurt said, forcibly ripping himself from his Blaine filled daze.  
>"That she's my sister, you knew all along?" He didn't look angry or even annoyed. As a matter of fact he sounded amused.<br>"Yeah, I did." Kurt admitted. Lying would not only be pointless, it would be ridiculous.  
>"Why didn't you tell me?"<br>"It never came up."  
>"So when I drove you home and said 'my sister lives in this building' that wasn't bringing it up?"<br>Kurt smiled embarrassedly "Yeah, I know. I guess I just… Don't really know what she's said about me. I don't want to be draped in assumptions you've made from her complaining about my poor roommate skills."  
>Blaine nodded. There was a silence, but not an uncomfortable one, in which they both just looked up at the sky. Blaine broke it.<br>"Do you know that sign?" He said, pointing.  
>"The Big Dipper?" Kurt asked. "It's the only one I know."<br>"It's one of the most important ones. Because if you can find that one it'll point you to the polar star." Blaine pointed to a small and insignificant looking star burning weakly straight below the Big Dipper. "And then you've found north."  
>Kurt smiled. He couldn't help but find Blaine's tendency of being an encyclopedia of semi-interesting knowledge endearing. Although his cigarette hadn't burned to its core Kurt threw it off the balcony without killing it. Blaine followed him inside.<br>Kurt sat down in the sofa and put his feet up on the table. His wine glass was empty, and as he refilled it he filled Blaine's to the brim. They'd agreed on only one glass each, controlled and only for tasting (Blaine had bought it while backpacking through Europe on his graduation trip, and it'd just been standing in his kitchen for far too long.) Blaine either didn't notice the significant increase of wine in his glass, or he was pretending not to as an excuse to enjoy what had turned out to be a perfectly good beverage. Blaine started a conversation about theater, which they had discovered they enjoyed discussing rather more than literature. The sun was long out of sight, and the moon moved slowly across the sky as they spoke, hours going by unnoticed. By four o'clock in the morning they'd verbally recounted almost every Broadway musical known to man and gone through nearly three bottles of wine. Kurt had stood up sometime in between Cats and The Wizard of Oz and was now studying a collection of books so large that it could only be referred to as a library.  
>"You have a lot of books" he said, running his finger over the spines of books by authors whose last name starts with F, "Have you read them all?"<br>Blaine did a little laugh. "Not even close," He said "I've probably read about two shelves." Kurt counted. There were fourteen.  
>"Is that why you decided to become an English teacher? Because of the books?"<br>Blaine nodded. "Teaching's just for the money, though. I'll only do it for a few more years." It sounded like a lie he'd told himself one too many times.  
>"Oh? Then tell me, Mr. Anderson, what is your true ambition?"<br>"I want to make one" he gestured to the book-covered wall behind himself. "a book."  
>"Oh, really? What do you write about?"<br>"Existential fiction, society, politics, modernism, brutality, life, you name it." Blaine looked at his wine glass. His curls could almost reach his eyes, and they shone strangely in the low light. Now more than ever he looked out of place. "I just want to make something that's bigger than myself, you know? Something with my name on it. Something more than my tombstone to prove I was here." He emptied his wine glass in one sip.  
>"Don't we all?" Kurt sat down in an armchair facing Blaine. "Personally I'm going for a star on the Walk of Fame."<br>"We've all got something, I suppose. A building or painting. Or a kid. It's one of the most primal instincts. Ever since the Stone Age people have been leaving clues that they were here. Even before writing was invented people would leave the outline of their palms, drawing their stories, showing they existed."  
>Kurt nodded. There was another silence in which Blaine kept staring at his now empty wine glass and Kurt studied the books on shelves behind his teacher. He thought that he must be very unhappy, to attempt to escape the world so desperately. Enjoying a good book is one thing, but Blaine was obviously bordering on an obsession. Kurt was starting to see his enthusiasm in English class in a different light. Not intelligent, observant and passionate, but the hollow words of someone who's simply read the book too many times. Of someone who had analyzed it because knowing everything about this alternate world is surely more enjoyable, more bearable than living in the real one.<br>"More wine?" Blaine offered him the bottle, having already filled his own glass. Kurt took it.  
>"Wouldn't you be in trouble for drinking with me?" he said, half teasingly and half worried. Blaine looked confused for a few seconds, but then his eyes lit up with realization.<br>"Shit. I'd almost forgotten you're my student. You're so… mature."  
>The small hesitant pause told Kurt he'd almost said something else, but he couldn't think of what it could be.<br>"But not tonight." Blaine said, raising his glass to Kurt. "Tonight I'm not a teacher, I'm just Rachel's brother."  
>And fuck, he had never looked more gorgeous. His eyes just the tiniest bit dazed from the wine, his hair messy, and his jeans clinging to his thighs. Maybe it was that which gave him the courage to say it, or maybe it was the wine or the fact that in that moment they were completely open, Blaine free of the pressure to be appropriate and act like a teacher, and Kurt just the right mix of drunk and comfortable to not feel the need to block himself off, to protect himself.<br>Whatever the reason, he said "Does that mean I can pursue you now?"  
>Blaine blushed, <em>fuck, he BLUSHED<em>, and looked down at his wine glass again, rotating it to see the liquid move inside it. His laugh was spiked with awkwardness and something more. "Yeah, I suppose you could."  
>Kurt waited for a 'but please don't', but it didn't come, so he stood up. It took only two steps to end up standing in front of him, and Kurt just stood there for a moment waiting for a rejection that didn't come. He bent down temptatively, and when Blaine still didn't stop him he bent all the way down, closing the distance between their lips.<p> 


	5. Chapter 4

When Kurt woke up his face was glued to the leather of Blaine's sofa. It took him several minutes to comprehend where the loud noise that sounded like a bomb warning was cominmg from. Annoyed, he picked up his phone and pressed the green 'answer' button.  
>"Kurt, where are you?" It was Rachel's voice.<br>"I don't really know. Give me a second." He held the phone away from his face and looked around, trying to remember the details of the previous night. "I'm at Blaine's."  
>"Why aren't you in class?"<br>"Overslept." He said, realizing too late how that might sound.  
>"W"ith my brother?"<br>"Relax, Rachel. I'm on his sofa. I was too drunk to drive."  
>"Are you going to show up at all?"<br>"I doubt it. Could you tell the teacher I'm sick?"  
>"Fine. And Kurt?"<br>"Yes?"  
>"We're not done talking about this."<br>"Goodbye, Rachel."  
>He hung up before she had time to interupt him again. He wanted to go back to sleep, to sleep for the rest of his life, or at least until the headache and nausia went away, but his head was already buzzing with the events of the previous night. They'd kissed. Blaine was his teacher and Rachel's brother, and they'd made out on the living room floor for an hour. Their hot bodies had been pressed against each other, hands had fumbled and found each other's hair and necks and thighs, thei'd been stuck in a passionate kiss that tasted like alcohol and chicken and Blaine.<br>The memories and confusion was still spinning through his head when he heard a shattering noice and turned around to find Blaine, wearing only pajama bottoms, bending over - _which was not helping the state of sexual frustration prolonged exposure to Blaine mixed with yesterdays activities had left him in_ - to pick up the shattered remains of a batman mug.  
>"You ninja," he said "I had no idea you were in the kitchen."<br>"If I were truly a ninja I wouldn't have broken a mug," Blaine supplied "True, but you're hungover, so you're excused."  
>Blaine raised the remains of the mug in Kurt woke up his face was glued to the leather of Blaine's sofa. It took him several minutes to comprehend where the loud noise that sounded like a bomb warning was cominmg from. Annoyed, he picked up his phone and pressed the green 'answer' button.<br>"Kurt, where are you?" It was Rachel's voice.  
>"I don't really know. Give me a second." He held the phone away from his face and looked around, trying to remember the details of the previous night. "I'm at Blaine's."<br>"Why aren't you in class?"  
>"Overslept." He said, realizing too late how that might sound.<br>"With my brother?"  
>"Relax, Rachel. I'm on his sofa. I was too drunk to drive."<br>"Are you going to show up at all?"  
>"I doubt it. Could you tell the teacher I'm sick?"<br>"Fine. And Kurt?"  
>"Yes?"<br>"We're not done talking about this."  
>"Goodbye, Rachel."<br>He hung up before she had time to interupt him again. He wanted to go back to sleep, to sleep for the rest of his life, or at least until the headache and nausia went away, but his head was already buzzing with the events of the previous night. They'd kissed. Blaine was his teacher and Rachel's brother, and they'd made out on the living room floor for an hour. Their hot bodies had been pressed against each other, hands had fumbled and found each other's hair and necks and thighs, they'd been stuck in a passionate kiss that tasted like alcohol and chicken and Blaine.  
>The memories and confusion was still spinning through his head when he heard a shattering noice and turned around to find Blaine, wearing only pajama bottoms, bending over - which was not helping the state of sexual frustration prolonged exposure to Blaine mixed with yesterdays activities had left him in - to pick up the shattered remains of a batman mug.<br>"You ninja," he said "I had no idea you were in the kitchen."  
>"If I were truly a ninja I wouldn't have broken a mug," Blaine supplied "True, but you're hungover, so you're excused."<br>Blaine raised the remains of the mug in thanks.  
>Kurt stood up and walked toward him, intending to help him pick up the pieces of the bat symbol, but the bits were all off the floor before he could reach him. So instead he sat down on one of the barstools sewt by the large kitchen island. Blaine examined the remainder of his batman mug sadly before determining that it was terminal and threw it in the bin.<br>"Do you want coffee?" He asked, opening an cupboard and taking out two cups. Without waiting for an answer he filled them both with coffee and handed one to Kurt, who thanked him.  
>"Milk, sugar and aspirin in the fridge and corner cupboard respectively." Blaine said, taking the seat opposite Kurt, who promptly stood up and went for the aspirin.<p>

"So, are we just going to ignore the giant elephant in the room?" Kurt said after a brief period of tense silence.  
>"I was hoping we could at least get through breakfast" Blaine confessed "but you're right, of course, we should talk about it."<br>There then comenced an even longer period of silence in which both avoided the other's eye and sipped their coffee awkwardly.  
>"Alright, I'm just going to set this off nicely" Kurt said, feeling that anything was better than the awkward pause that was engulfing them. "I really like you. And not because you're really, really hot or because you're a teacher, but because you're awesome and adorable and your classes just make my day. Because you're so full of energy and because you have a fucking home library and because you get drunk on red wine you bought in Europe with me and then come out like a ninja the next morning wearing fucking superman pajama pants. Because I haven't been able to get you out of my mind ever since we you asked me for a lighter only a few weeks ago, and it's driving me crazy, Blaine, it really is." Every word he spoke was true, but he was only realizing they were when they came out of his mouth. At the end of his rambling he felt the blush creep up his neck and face. Blaine looked quite perplexed at the frank confession, and Kurt feared he'd freaked him out completely. Of course he had. He'd just professed his love fore a teacher, Rachel's older brother, a guy who definitely did not see him in any way other than platonicly. "Kurt I'm... your teacher." Blaine started, and Kurt could read the rejection in his words. He wished he could not care, but he couldn't stop the icy feeling spreading through his chest.<br>"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just.. I'm sorry. I'll go." Kurt motioned to leave the chair, but Blaine laid a hand on his arm to keep him back.  
>"Don't go. Let me finish." He said, looking him directly in the eye. Kurt nodded, mesmerized by the brown of Blaine'e eyes.<br>"I'm your teacher" Blaine started again, kinder this time. "Which means that this, whatever this is, has to stop. No matter how much I want it, regardless of how amazing I'm sure it's be, I just... can't. I can't lose my job, Kurt. I can't hurt my sister. I just can't do this. It's not right."  
>Kurt nodded. He understood, of course, but he couldn't stop the disappointment spreading in his chest. He looked down at his coffee cup awkwardly, wanting to look at anything other than those dark brown eyes, the adorable morning curls, the scruff. He wished with all his might that he could take back his confession.<br>"Kurt?" Blaine said, sounding worried. "Are you okay?"  
>"Yeah" Kurt said reluctantly, contemplating whether to ask the question that was on his mind.<br>"I just... can I just ask one thing?"  
>"Of course"<br>He took a deep breath and willed himself to look at Blaine, wanting to see his reaction. To tell whether he was lying. "If this weren't... weird. If you weren't my teacher, and my roommates brother, and, like, seven years older than me... then what? Would I stand a chance?"  
>At this, Blaine actually laughed. Kurt should have felt hurt, but it made him feel like Blaine's answer would be genuine. He felt like he some sort of wall had been knocked down, the same sort of wall as had been knocked down yesterday when they started unbuttoning button-downs and removing t-shirts.<br>"Believe me, Kurt," Blaine said, leaning forward and looking at him in a way that made his skin tingle. "If you weren't my student you'd be in my bed right now."  
>There was a pause where one could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Kurt felt as if he'd already overstepped his limits today, but with the resent comment his courage was renewed.<br>"I could always drop your classes."  
>Blaine looked like he was seriously contemplating the idea, but then he shook his head.<br>"I'm the only drama teacher. It'd be a huge academic setback."  
>"Frankly, I don't give a fuck."<br>"It doesn't change the fact that my sister is your roommate."  
>"She doesn't need to know."<br>"But the age gap..."  
>"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."<br>"You make a convincing argument, Kurt." Blaine said, "but I still wouldn't be comfortable with breaking any rules. My job is already in trouble due to my eccentric teaching methods. If you were to drop my classes, on the other hand..." He let the sentence hang there, letting all the possible meanings run a marathon through Kurt's brain._ If you were to drop my classes I would consider dating you_, _If you were to drop my classes I would still need to run it by Rachel_,_ if you were to drop my classes I would fuck you against that wall over there until you're begging for more._  
>All equally possible but variably desirable. He was tempted to ask for the end of the sentence, but instead he said "what are the rules, exactly?"<br>"I'm not allowed to engage in any sexual activity with my students."  
>"Would making out count as a sexual activity?" Kurt asked, feeling like he was being too daring.<br>Blaine looked torn, looking from his coffee cup to Kurt's lips, licking his own lips and taking a sip of the now-cold coffee. It took him several seconds to respond.  
>"I don't suppose so. The rules don't specify any definition of sexual activity, so I guess we're just going to go by our own."<br>Kurt smiled, uncertain of whether that was a yes or not. It'd sounded like a yes, but he didn't want to make any rash decisions that might end badly. He only had to ponder it for a second, however, when Blaine leaned over the counter and kissed him, tilting his head to the side and parting his lips slightly. He tasted of coffee and morning breath and Blaine, and Kurt closed his eyes, holding him back when he made to break the kiss. They stayed like that for several minutes, the friction between their lips and the taste of he other the only thing in their world. But Blaine broke the kiss prematurely, and sat back on his stool. He was hot and flushed, blush warming his cheeks and ears, and he had a ridiculously large grin on his face. Nonetheless he looked worried. He turned to look at Kurt again.  
>"I can't... just for right now. Just need to clear my head. I still have no idea what I'm doing."<br>Kurt nodded. He knew Blaine was risking a lot just being around him in his free time, and even though he felt bitter disappointment spread through him like wildfire he still had the last kiss on his lips. He leaned back, too, realizing the only thing that was keeping him from falling to the floor was the support of the kitchen counter.  
>"We really shouldn't do this." Blaine said, looking up and into Kurt's eyes. He looked sincere, but as if it cost him something to say it. "I don't want to lead you on and then decide I can't go through with it. I don't want to hurt you, Kurt. And I don't want to end up hurting myself."<br>Had Kurt been more observant he may have caught the tone with which Blaine uttered the last sentence, or the way he rubbed his left forearm. Instead he leaned forward and said "You're not leading me on. I know exactly what I'm getting myself into. Don't worry about it."  
>Blaine nodded. "Alright," he said "wanna go out for a smoke?"<p> 


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I am so, so, so sorry. I won't leave you guys again.

* * *

><p>Kurt really wished that he and Rachel did not live in a studio apartment right now, because once she came home there would be no escaping her. He didn't have any missed calls from her from the morning, so he assumed Jesse had given her a ride to school, meaning it was unlikely that she'd been home tonight.<p>

He tried not to think about it too much, worrying what she would say was pointless. To distract himself he picked up the Catcher in the Rye, which he begrudgingly had to admit was rather good. He still couldn't prevent himself from looking at the clock every ten minutes. When Rachel was half an hour late, he sighed and went out on the balcony for a cigarette. When she was an hour late, he made dinner. When the dinner had gotten cold, he started worrying that something bad may have happened to her, so he called.  
>"Kurt?" she answered, after three-too-many rings.<br>"Are you alright?"  
>"Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm just with-"<br>"Jesse," he finished for her. "Well, thanks for letting me know. I was worried about you."  
>"Thanks for letting <em>me<em> know that you were _sleeping_ with my _brother_," she hissed.  
>"I did <em>not<em> sleep with your brother. You, however, are sleeping with our former rival."  
>"I am not sleeping with him,"<br>"-Yes she is!" Jesse's voice said from somewhere behind her.  
>"Oh my God, Jesse, shut <em>up<em>!" She said, followed by silence, and then: "I can't get off the phone right now, I am trying to tell Kurt off for- JESSE ST. JAMES PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANCE!"  
>This was followed by a conversation Kurt <em>really<em> didn't need to hear.  
>"Rachel Berry," he said, in horror, "Please tell me you're wearing clothes at this moment."<br>"Uhm, sort of…"  
>"What so you mean, sort o- you know what, no, I <em>really<em> don't want to know. I will call you back once I have bleached my brain. Good bye." Then, as an afterthought, he added "Use a condom."  
>"I'll be home in a couple of hours. Stop over-reacting."<br>In stead of commenting on the obvious irony of that statement, he hung up.

In reaction to learning that he'd be alone for a while, he did what any sensible nineteen-year-old would do. From its hiding place inside some magazines in his bedstand, he retrieved a sealed plastic bag containing a small, green bud. After using a never-to-be-used-again kitchen appliance to chop it into an acceptably tobacco-like state, he rolled a joint with just enough to give him about an hour's buzz.  
>In this neighbourhood people didn't really over-react to smelling a little marijuana from someone else's apartment, so he wasn't too scared to smoke it on the balcony. He sat down on the used-up porch chair that used to belong to Blaine, and lit up. It took exactly two seconds for him to start thinking about Blaine. The way they'd been intertwined the previous night, Blaine on top, panting, pulling Kurt's hair, opening his button-up but not removing it. Kurt had felt his hard-on pressed against his leg, and FUCK, he wanted him. It was all he could think about.<br>His joint was coming to an end, and the world was slowly starting to go in slow motion. So he tipped the filter over the railing, and watched it fall to the ground, which for some reason made him giggle. Once inside he removed his now-too-tight jeans and made sure the door was locked before laying down on his back in the bed.  
>One couldn't really blame him, he concluded, while slowly stroking himself and letting out small breathy moans. Alcohol, weed and Blaine all made him horny, and he'd been exposed to all three withing the last twenty-four hours. He was inclined to blame Rachel again. Goddamn Rachel and her Goddamn gorgeous brother with his awesome hair and his awesome abs and his awesome ass and his awesome swollen lips brushing agains his neck, his tounge trailing down his stomach, stopping right before it reached the material of his jeans, lifting his head to outright <em>grin<em> at him before starting his journey back up. It took one replay of that in Kurt's mind before he comes, hot and sticky, over his hand and matress. He can't even be bothered to clean off just yet, just lying down blissfully untill he no longer could fight the urge to raid the kitchen for cheese puffs.  
>He miraculously found some, hidden behind boxes of cereal, and spent an hour happily watching television on his laptop. When Rachel finally showed up, he'd watched seven episodes.<br>"How was your date?" he said, whitout looking up.  
>"It was perfectly pleasant," she said, sitting down in the opposing armchair. "He took me to a coffee house after school, then we went to buy sheet music for his job, and then we went back to his place and he, uh, made me dinner."<br>"Yes, I am sure he did," Kurt said dryly.  
>"How was <em>yours<em>?" she replied pointedly.  
>"I didn't go on a date, Rachel."<br>"No, you just skipped right to the sex, then?"  
>"Oh, for fuck's sake, Rachel, I did not have sex with your brother! We had some wine, talked a bit, and I didn't want to drive drunk so I stayed over at his place. I slept on his <em>sofa<em>. Nothing happened."  
>"Liar," she said, without missing a beat.<br>"Why would I lie?"  
>"I don't know, why are you?"<br>"I'm not."  
>"Yes, you are. I'd recommend wearing a scarf if you're going out, by the way."<br>Kurt could feel his cheeks redden, and gingerly touched the spot Blaine had bit the previous night. It felt soar, and was probably a purple-ish red colour.  
>"A hickey? Seriously?" he mumbled, before looking at Rachel. "Yes, fine, we made out for a bit, but that's IT, I SWEAR."<br>She looked at him doubtfully for a second, before exhaling to say; "Fine, I believe you, if nothing else then becasue you are breathing clouds of marijuana right now, and you only smoke it in three situations. And this is neither a party nor a concert."  
>"I hate you, you know."<br>"I know."

"This is literally all your fault."  
>"Yes, this is exactly how I wanted this year to go," she said. "Just… be careful with him, okay? He can be really fragile."<p> 


	7. Chapter 6

It took a week for Blaine to talk to Kurt again. In class he was the same, improbably enthusiastic in drama, and hot-professor-from-a-semi-bad-porno-flick(-without-the-actual-fucking) in English. If he went outside to smoke douring breaks, he had found a new place to do it. After two whole days of 'giving him some space', Kurt decided that he was not to be easily ignored, and put together a plan for the same diabolical mental warfare that had driven him to nearly fuck his English teacher in the first place.  
>On day one, it was jeans so tight he could hardly move in them. In class he would put his legs up on the table, pressing his thighs together in a way he KNEW should be yealding results. Blaine's speech was slightly breathier than normal, and Kurt considered that a success. For good measure he was the last student to leave the room, walking with just a slight sway.<br>Day two included touching the places Blaine had touched. Stroking his thighs, rubbing his neck, and biting his lower lip.  
>The third day involved winking, extensive licking of lips, and casually accidentally walking into Blaine, just coincidentally stroaking his thigh as he dislodged himself with an unsinsere apology. In the last break of that day, Blaine once again asked him for a lighter.<br>"I am so glad you're speaking to me," Kurt said earnestly.  
>"Is that so?" asked Blaine with a faint smile.<br>"Yeah. I was running out of ideas. If you hadn't caved by Monday I would have brought a lollipop to class."  
>"Well, in that case, this meeting never happened," Blaine said, his smile more genuine now. Kurt couldn't help but laugh.<br>"I could still bring it, if you'd like," he said, winking.  
>"You have to stop doing this, Mr. Hummel. I am supposed to be focusing on teaching classes."<br>"My most sincere apologies, sir," Kurt said, tipping an imaginary hat.  
>Blaine started to say something, but was interrupted by the bell.<br>"Still need a ride home?," he asked as he stood up. Kurt nodded.

They talked about drama class on their way to their respective homes. Blaine was very pleased with the way their play was shaping up, and went into another monolog about structure. Kurt was, in his own words, freezing to death, and couldn't help but feel a little relived when they slowed to a stop outside his apartment.  
>"You don't suppose Rachel would be home?" Blaine mused.<br>"Well, she might be. Although she's been spending a lot of time away from home lately."  
>"Sounds lonely."<br>"A bit, but I can watch whatever I want on TV, and there's no one to tutt at me if I stay up late."  
>Blaine smiled. "Well, I guess we could always see if she's there. I haven't seen your apartment yet, it's so rude."<br>"I suppose it is," Kurt said, stepping out into the bitter cold. "There's no harm in coming up for a look."

Rachel was not home. A quick text message confirmed that she was with Jesse. Kurt did not tell her about Blaine paying them a visit. He even left a note on the door while Blaine was using the bathroom.

Don't come in, or at least knock!  
>(You shagged MY brother, I'm allowed!)<p>

It was more to mess with her than anything, and he couldn't help but snicker when he imagined her reaction.  
>"She says she'll be home in ten minutes," he told Blaine, who had sat down in one of the chairs he'd lent them. "So expect her in half an hour. Coffee?"<br>"Yes, please," Blaine said, and then, noticing Kurt's copy of the Catcher in the Rye on the coffee table: "Did you like it?"  
>"What?"<br>"The Catcher in the Rye."  
>"Oh," Kurt said, trying not to sound dissapointed. "More than I thought I would. It was really hopeless, I guess, at first. But if you think about it, it's not so hopeless after all, you know?" Kurt put two cups of coffee on the table. "I mean, douring the whole book this kid doesn't have anyone to talk to, but I guess he found someone in the end, or he wouldn't be telling the story."<br>"Yes!" Blaine said, smiling widely. "The really interesting part of The Catcher in the Rye is that there are two Holdens, there's the Holden telling the story, and the Holden the story is happening to."  
>He went on like that for a while, and Kurt listened. Blaine was biting the earpieces of his glasses again, and smiling in that WAY that made Kurt get a small tingeling sensation in the pit of his stomach.<br>"Oh, will you PLEASE stop doing that?" he interjected after ten full minutes.  
>"Stop doing what?"<br>"Biting you glasses like, like... fuck, Blaine. You aren't even doing these things on purpose, are you?"  
>The corners of Blaine's mouth curles almost unnoticably upward. "Maybe a little," he admitted.<br>"You are insufferable. I have taken dropping your classes into serious concideration."  
>"Actually," Blaine said, still smiling, "I did some research. The rules, for some absurd reason, only apply to on-campus classes. If you were to, say, enroll in drama class as an online credit, and take English with another teacher..."<br>"I can do that?"  
>"Yes, but it's a lot of trouble."<br>"What are you suggesting?"  
>"Honestly? That we use your relationship to my sister as a cover for spending time together off campus while really engaging in an illegal romantic relationship. Unfortunately, the key to that sentence is the other bump in the road here; your relationship to my sister."<br>"I really don't see the issue here," Kurt said. "I mean, if it helps, she dated my brother on-and-off for years."  
>Blaine concidered this for a minute.<br>"That actually does help, strangely," he said.  
>"Wouldn't you be risking your job?" Kurt asked.<br>"Well, technically. But it's only really breaking the rules if you get caught, right?"  
>Somehow, it went from that statement, to the sofa, to the floor, to Kurt's bed. They'd left a trail behind; socks in their respective chairs, coats in the sofa, shirts on the floor, pants and underwear at the foot of the bed.<br>"I have been wanting to do this for far too long," Kurt said, desperately holding on to Blaine, as if afraid he might change his mind and leave.  
>Blaine just nodded, his face burried in Kurt's neck. He bit down, touching the spot he had bruised earlier. Kurt pulled back to take a look at his naked body. He'd been imagining this moment so vividly, seeing Blaine naked and sprawled out on his bed nightly ever since he had the apartment to himself, and didn't need to keep it down any more. He moved in closer again, and licked a wet trail down Blaine's stomach, not stopping at the edge of where his jeans would have been, but going lower, taking Blaine's dick into his mouth painfully slow, listening to every nuance of his moaning: first breathy, short ones, then increasing in intensity as Kurt went lower. Every moan was a slightly different pitch, a whole new sensation, and he wondered as he slowly licked Blaine's cock from the base to its tip, inducing a whole new high, pitch-wise, if he could make him scream.<br>Blaine was obsessed with Kurt's neck. when he moved back up to kiss him hungrily, he immideately went for it, sucking on it, slowly biting down and then licking the wound. He traced kisses from behind Kurt's ear to the dip of his collar bone. Even when he'd turned over, hands balling up the sheets and hips moving rythmically, he would reach out and touch it sometimes. It was as if he didn't quite believe it was there.  
>Just for the record, Kurt did make him scream. Once when he leaned over to unexpectedly bite the base of his neck, and once in sequence, leading up to orgasm, the pitch and volume increasing with every exclemation.<br>Afterwards they were curled up next to each other, both exhausted, breathing heavily. Blaine smelled of sweat and cum, and his body was warm next to Kurt's. They stayed like that for a long while, not speaking.  
>They were just discussing going for a second time when there was an agressive knock on the door.<br>"Do NOT come in here, Rachel," Kurt said, hastely sitting up.  
>"Blaine, if you are in there, I will kill you," said Rachel from the other side of the door.<br>"Fuck," Blaine said under his breath, scrambeling to put his underwear back on. Kurt was already picking his shirt of the floor.  
>Once Blaine was wearing a decent amount of clothes, Kurt opened the door. Rachel walked in, holding bags of groceries. Blaine sat in one of the armchairs, clearly trying to make himself invisible.<br>"Wow," said Rachel when she caught sight of him, "you really weren't joking."  
>"Well, actually, the note WAS a joke. And then it wasn't. Stuff just sort of happened."<br>"What note?" said Blaine from his place in the armchair. Rachel opened the door and ripped Kurt's note off it, and handed it rather agressively to Blaine, who in turn snickered.  
>"I swear we're not doing this behind your back, Rach," said Kurt rather feebly. "Stuff just sort of happens and you're never there to tell. Blaine was literally not speaking to me earlier today. So, I mean, it's no big secret thing."<br>"Except for the fact that it's a big secret thing," Blaine added. "I mean, if you're just having a casual conversation with the school board."  
>Rachel just looked at them with great incredulity, before sighing and saying "You guys hungry?"<p> 


End file.
